


Runaway

by spobylol



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Beach Sex, F/M, Road Trips, Vacation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-04-28 14:33:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5094290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spobylol/pseuds/spobylol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working at Annalise Keating's law firm is a stressful job— but a spontaneous trip to Myrtle Beach is exactly what Frank and Laurel need to blow off some steam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"So, we are going to continue working on the Meyer family's case, and we're also going to begin taking on another case. A woman whose husband died of cancer two years ago has been accused of killing her mother-in-law," Annalise explains, dropping a case file for the Keating Five.

They all groan in unison.

" _Two_ cases at once?" Connor is brave enough to ask. 

"It's not the cases that are the bad part, it's the fact that we also have our exam Friday!" Michaela points out. "Annalise, how do you expect us to handle all of this?"

"What? The Shooting Star can't handle it?" Connor teases.

"Enough! If you two can't handle working here, then just leave," Annalise smirks. "Alright, if you have any questions, ask Bonnie or Frank. You guys should begin working on the new case, and I want you to theorize possible suspects of the case, and then look through the case file for evidence. I'm going to go visit Wendy Meyer for her additions to the Meyer case. I expect this to be theorized with evidence by tonight. Don't slack off."

Laurel runs a hand through her soft brown hair, staring down at the case file with a stressed look on her face. It's a lot to handle. Michaela is right. She watches Annalise walk out of her house, leaving them to do the major work for the new case. She's grateful to work here, but it can be horrible sometimes.

Frank looks over at her. Their eyes lock for a brief moment. He knows she's stressing. She's been refusing to come over to his apartment after work because she always has to do extra work for the case or study for her exams. Working at the law firm makes her boring. He likes her when she's wild. He decides to leave her be for now, but the thought keeps roaming around in his head: what if they leave? What if they go somewhere far off? He knows he can get her mind off of all the hard work.

After work, Frank catches her just before she can leave the building.

"All the work stressing you out?" he asks, standing right behind her.

She turns around with raised eyebrows.

"If I say 'yes', I don't want to have to deal with you mocking me for the rest of my life the way you mock Michaela for being the 'Shooting Star'," Laurel warns.

"No, I was just going to suggest that I get this stress off your hands," Frank says with a smirk.

" _No_ ," she responds immediately. "I've already told you so many times this week that I'm way too busy to come over and do whatever you have in mind... not that I would want to do that stuff otherwise... because I don't want to."

"Uh-huh, sure," he says in disbelief. "But actually, that's  _not_ what I'm suggesting. I'm suggesting that we get out of here. Maybe for a day, maybe for a whole week. But let's leave."

She scoffs as if the idea is insane. And it is! Annalise would kill her, she would fall behind in her work, and not to mention, she isn't sure if she can spend that much alone time with Frank. Her time with him can be... intense.

"You think taking a random-ass vacation is a probable solution to my stress?" she rolls her eyes. "No, the only solution is to deal with the work. I know that, and you do, too."

"Oh, come on. Lighten up," he grins. "Doesn't it sound thrilling? You, me, all alone in a hotel room by the beach. And you know exactly how little you'd be wearing. I could run my hands down your back and pull the string of that bikini. I'd fuck you right there on the sand of the beach."

She feels herself tingling, although she knows it's horrible to be aroused at that explicit thought. Dammit, the thought of Frank running his hands down every inch of her body, sucking her, kissing her, touching her... She won't have to deal with these exams and cases. Annalise and her co-workers may be angry, but she'll get to spend as much alone time as she desires with Frank. 

She knows that if she goes, something is bound to happen between the both of them. There's no way she can go off on some vacation with Frank and be completely alone with him without something happening between them.

"That's ridiculous," she comments, although half of her is dying to get away from the stress and just be with him instead.

"I know you don't think it's ridiculous, Laurel," he rolls his eyes. "You don't like the sound of that? Us, together? Alone? Aw, I'm sure you're afraid something's gonna happen between us, because you know you can't keep your hands off of me when we're alone together."

"Yeah, right!" she cries. "I'm not some sex-addict like you, who can't go without hooking up with somebody for more than a few days."

"Alright. Then what's stopping you from coming with me?" he asks.

"My  _exams_ , my  _cases_ ," Laurel explains.

"As important as you are to the team, you know your little buddies will be able to figure the cases out in time without you. They're not going to fail just because you're gone," he reminds. "Trust me. I'll take care of Annalise."

"No way," Laurel denies, shaking her head. "I'm not running away from my problems, Frank. Maybe that's something  _you_ do, but in my world, I deal with my problems."

He shrugs his shoulders.

"Just think about what you're missing out on," he smirks. "We could be well on our way to that beach hotel. I'll pay every cent, don't you worry 'bout it. But we'd be there, and I could be on top of you right now in that bed. I could be inside of you right now. I can roll you over in the sand and fuck you in every way."

"Good night, Frank," she says, shaking her head again while she walks out of the building.

But he knows his dirty talk gets to her. He knows she wants him. He knows she's dying inside for him. He _knows_ well he turned her on with those words. And at 12 AM, he finally starts getting ready for bed, putting on his white t-shirt and boxer shorts. But he's got an instinct that she's coming to his apartment. She wants to run away with him. She likes the idea of fucking at the beach. She likes the idea of being alone with him for an indefinite period of time. He knows it.

And to no surprise, there's a knock on his apartment door. It's completely dark outside, but Laurel's driven herself over to his apartment. He knows she hasn't been able to stop thinking about the idea since he put it into her head. She's been considering it. And now she wants it.

"Don't you dare judge me because I'm already skeptical about this," she says in a hurried tone. "Let's go, Frank."

He smirks and grabs his car keys from his drawer. He saw this coming.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to let you know that I'm dying of feels after the HTGAWM episode last night with such good Flaurel scenes<3

Laurel's eyes slowly open up, still groggy from just waking up from her sleep. She's slightly startled at the rumbling car and the sight of Frank next to her in the driver's seat. She almost forgot she had agreed to come on this trip. He glances over at her, a smile emerging on his face. 

"I thought you were gonna sleep the whole time," he tells her, still looking over at her. "It gets a little boring driving for over an hour in silence."

She knows what a heavy gaze he has on her, and avoids his eyes. The idea of getting away from the work stress is great, but she's still worried about what might happen if she lets herself get too comfortable during the trip. She's scared out of her mind. Something _is_ going to happen between them on this trip. She feels it. It's inevitable.

"It's pretty late. Can you blame me?" she yawns, shutting her eyes for a moment.

But then she looks down and is startled by the sight of a navy blue blanket covering her body. She doesn't remember ever seeing this blanket in her life, and she certainly doesn't remember putting it on herself before she fell asleep. She glances over at Frank, whose eyes are now focused back on the road.

"And when did I receive this blanket?" she asks him, raising her eyebrows.

He bites his lip, looking over at her sheepishly.

"You looked cold," he explains, scratching his head with one hand, while the other remains on the wheel. "Don't mistake this for something it's not. It doesn't mean I'm some sappy old oaf—"

"I didn't say anything. You did. I was just asking," she reminds him, but stares at him in disbelief. "Thank you, though."

"Of course..." he mumbles.

But she  _is_ thinking about it. How he had to stop the entire car, get the blanket from the trunk, and put it on her. Just because he thought she  _looked_ cold while she was sleeping. She smiles at that thought, and Frank can tell she's thinking about it because of her smile. It only makes him more embarrassed. He doesn't want her to get the impression that he's a softie. But he hates that sometimes he does turn into a softie because of her.

* * *

She falls asleep again on the way there. He finally pulls the car up into the parking lot of a hotel complex. He chuckles when he turns to see her sleeping. He had to keep his focus on the road while he was driving (which was incredibly hard because she's hard not to look at). He finally has the opportunity to admiring her adorable sleeping face. He reaches over and shakes her body gently so her eyes begin to open.

"Mmm," she mumbles out groggily, instinctively stretching her arms over her head. Her eyes open a crack and see Frank extremely close to her. "Whoa," she mumbles, blinking quicker to regain her composure. "Are we here?" she asks, unbuckling her seatbelt.

"Yes, yes we are," he responds. He gets out of the car, and goes over to her side to open the door for her. 

" _This_ is the hotel?" she asks, looking behind her as she gets out as well. "It's so... fancy."

"I have my connections to get the best of the best for a price you probably wouldn't believe," he tells her with a grin. 

She looks around her. The beach is in the distance, looking gorgeous. It's very early in the morning— much earlier than she even would have woken up if she was going to go to work. But she can see the waves crashing into the sand while it's dark outside. It's beautiful.

"Can we go to the beach?" she asks.

He raises his eyebrows.

"Now?" he questions. "Do you have any idea what time is it? After the way you were knocked out in the car, I thought you'd want to get our stuff up to the hotel room and crash until way past this time. You wanna go there now?"

She nods her head.

"It'll be more fun when people aren't there," she says. "And I just want to see it. We don't have to go adventuring right now. I just want to see it up close. We live in Pennsylvania, Frank. It's not every day that we get to visit a beach. It's been a while since I've been down here..."

He nods his head at that, shutting the car door.

"We'll come back for our bags then," he gives in. "But, we're only going for a little while. I've been driving all night. I need some sleep, too, you know."

She laughs quietly, and the two of them walk. The beach is about five minutes from the hotel complex, which isn't that bad. Laurel kicks off her flip flops and takes her first step into the sand. It's much colder than she expects it to be, most likely because it's the cold night time. Beaches in South Carolina don't get that warm, especially at night.

"Wow..." she mutters, digging her toes into the sand. A smile emerges on her face.

Frank watches her carefully.

"Aren't you coming?" she asks.

"I thought you just wanted to look at it for a moment, and then we'd go back to the hotel room. I don't really feel like getting my feet all sandy right now—" he begins, but is cut off by Laurel grabbing his sleeve and tugging him onto the beach grounds without even giving him the opportunity to take his shoes off.

"Hey!" he almost yells. "These are  _not_ the cheapest shoes in the world."

She tilts her head to the side.

"We're at the beach, Frank. There's no damn murder case to deal with right now. I can do whatever the hell I want!" she exclaims.

"And would that include getting back to the hotel room?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

"You'd rather sleep than be out here with me?" she questions.

"I've been driving all night. Remember that," he tells her.

She smiles at him.

"Isn't it worth it?" she asks.

He takes his shoes off, and although they're now filled with sand, he ignores it and sets them beside Laurel's flip flops. He turns around to face the ocean water, smiling at it as well. It is beautiful. Maybe not as beautiful as Laurel, but it's beautiful. He swallows hard. He hasn't been nervous around a girl in ages, maybe not since high school time when he didn't have much experience with women. But when he stands there and watches Laurel's glowing eyes in the dark sky, it feels... cinematic. He feels like they're in a movie, and that's one of the cheesiest things he's ever thought in his life.

"Yeah," he responds, slightly delayed from when she asked the question. "Yeah, it is worth it."

She turns away from him, admiring the beach view again. She can't take her eyes off of the ocean. She's missed this. Living in Pennsylvania means she doesn't get to go to the beach, like ever. She hasn't been here since she was a kid.

"Laurel?"

She turns back to him.

"Yeah?"

He presses his lips together, watching her carefully. He should have known being alone with her was going to stir up his feelings like this. 

"Never mind," he mutters, but this intrigues her more than anything.

She hates not knowing. She hates when people make it seem like they're going to tell her something, but then back out of it with a 'never mind'. She needs to know.

"Come on,  _what_?" she urges.

"Nothing. Just.. maybe we can get a better view of the ocean from the dock over there?" he suggests, pointing his finger over at the long dock that extends out into a part of the ocean. She nods her head, and the two of them make their way to the dock.

But she knows that's not what he was going to say. He's not the type of guy to be nervous about telling her that a stupid dock is over there. She takes that back— it's not stupid. She really loves the dock. It's so pretty. The view of the ocean, too. Frank was right. It's even more gorgeous when they're so close to the ocean. She sits down, hanging her feet over the ledge of the dock. Her feet are dangling down towards the ocean. He chuckles and mirrors her, doing the same.

"So, you don't want to go to sleep anymore now, do you?" she asks.

"Well, I can't say that. I'm still beat from driving all that way," he informs her.

"We can go back now.. if you want," she tells him.

"I wouldn't mind a few more minutes out here," he confesses, biting down on his lip.

He's staring out at the ocean. And initially, she was, too, but her face turns to him. She gazes at him, still intrigued by what he was saying back there.

"Frank," she finally speaks up after a few seconds. "What were you going to say back there? It's been killing me.."

He turns to look back at her when she says this. He can feel a lump forming in his throat. She wants to know what he was going to say, but truth is, he wasn't really going to say much. Or anything at all... 

" _Frank_ , come on. We're on a beach, at night. How much more perfect could the setting be for deep thoughts to be confessed?" Laurel chuckles.

"And what makes you think what I was going to say was going to be something deep?" he asks curiously, raising his eyebrows at her.

"I don't know," she shrugs. "I just figured. The way you said it, I guess."

He takes a chance. When she finishes her sentence, he leans in and presses his lips against hers. His hands get tangled in her silky brown hair. Of course, she kisses him back. Soft, deep... he feels stupid for thinking it again, but it really is like the movies. He didn't think things like this actually happened, until now.

"I thought it would be something like that..." Laurel mumbles when she pulls back from the kiss.

He's got his hand on the back of her neck, just holding her that way. Their eyes are locked. It truly is perfect, like a movie. He's probably never kissed a girl that way— so romantically. It doesn't feel like the way it usually does when they're hooking up, or when he hooks up with any woman, for that matter. 

He pushes her back. Her feet come up from the edge of the dock, and she lays flat down on the wooden surface. She doesn't even feel uncomfortable, despite where she is. The beach setting, and the feeling of Frank's beard against her face, are enough to make up for anything. His feet come up from the edge as well, and he crawls on top of her, hovering above her. His lips swoop down to kiss her neck, eliciting a moan from her mouth. He kisses his way up, back to her lips. Her legs wrap around his hips. If only his pants were already off— he'd be inside of her already.

This was bound to happen. Laurel just didn't expect it to come so soon. And neither did Frank.

Their hands are all over the place, flinging clothing off one by one. She is quickly able to get Frank's t-shirt over his head, but is careful not to accidentally toss it into the water or something. She puts it down gently beside her, and reconnects her lips with Frank's. Her free hand traces down his chiseled chest, feeling every muscular detail of his abs. In the blink of the eye, the both of them are almost completely naked, with their lips unable to stop attacking each other. He finally slips her black panties off, dropping them near the rest of their clothes.

Lastly, he pulls his boxer shorts off, and immediately pushes himself into her, causing a moan to erupt out of Laurel's mouth at the sudden gesture. He loves the way her moans sound— so erotic, so sexy. It makes him  _know_ he's doing a good job pleasing her.

* * *

So,  _that_ happened. The two of them screwed under the moonlight on the beach's dock. Probably one of the better places they've had sex... After they were both able to orgasm (obviously— the both of them were able to turn each other on like nobody else could), they just stayed there on the dock. It was slightly uncomfortable and awkward, but also slightly romantic.

It was a what-the-hell-just-happened moment, but it was also a this-is-perfect moment.

"We should probably go to the hotel room now," Laurel suggests.

They're in this awkward position, which is also very romantic, but still awkward: her head is rested on his chest, and his arms are around her. Getting out of the position is the hard part. Maybe this would be less uncomfortable if they were in bed, and could just fall asleep. But they can't sleep here, even _they_ know that. The last thing they need is to have a bunch of beach-goers see their naked asses on the dock in the morning.

"Yeah," he agrees, and she finally gets off of his chest. "You can wear my shirt."

She raises her eyebrows.

"And what are you going to wear when you check into the hotel?" she asks, chuckling.

"Dammit..." he mutters. "Sorry, I forgot about that."

They're not in the hotel room. He would have given her his shirt then, and it would have been damn romantic. But it's ruined. They both put their own respective clothing back on, and head to the car to get their backs. Laurel lazily sits in the lobby and watches as Frank checks into the hotel. She likes that he takes care of everything. She just gets to sit back. No stress, just like he promised.

"Let's go," he motions to her, waving the hotel room key card.

She sighs, getting up from the lobby couch, and following him into the elevator. They stand there in silence, trying to avoid each other's eyes.

"Laurel," he begins, finally allowing his eyes to look at her. "Should we talk about what happened back there—"

"There's nothing to talk about," she quickly says, and turns away from him.

The elevator opens up, and they walk to the room together. Frank slides the key card, unlocking the room. Laurel admires the hotel room and looks around. Frank sets both their bags down inside of the room, and then shuts the door.

"Your 'buddy' couldn't get you a two-bed room?" Laurel asks, realizing there's only one bed.

"That would be way too expensive," he smirks, but the fact that he'll be in the same bed as her somewhat excites her. "Nah, I'm just messing with ya. The couch is a pull-out couch. You can take the bed."

"Oh," she mumbles. She's too stubborn to tell him she doesn't mind if he sleeps in the same bed.

After all, they just had sex out on the dock... but maybe that's what makes it far more uncomfortable. She doesn't feel like talking about what happened. She doesn't feel like figuring it out. It's way too much for her. So, she changes into something way more comfortable, and falls asleep on the large bed all by herself, letting Frank take the couch, just as he said he would.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Laurel's eyes sleepily open. Immediately when her eyes open, she can smell a sweet aroma coming from the kitchen— a very amazing scent. She eases herself out of bed, and goes to the other room where the kitchen is, and leans against the wall with a smile on her face. Frank looks up at her.

"I ordered food," he explains. "You took  _forever_ to wake up. I was considering eating the food I got you, too. As you can tell, I'm starvin'."

She sits down at the table with him, and he slides her a plate with pancakes on it.

"Do you want something to drink?" he asks, and she nods her head and points to the orange juice. He pours it in a glass for her, and slides the glass over to her, too.

She's still at a loss of words after what happened the night before. She remembers the feeling of him inside of her.. the way it was so gentle and different from every other time they had hooked up. Those times were because they were searching for sexual satisfaction. This time, she isn't sure what it was for, but she's sure it's not just because she needed to get a late night fix of sex.

"Are you going to speak or let me talk to myself for the rest of this trip?" he chuckles. "I'm beginning to feel like I'm all by myself."

"I'm sorry," she apologizes, taking a bite of her pancake. "I just— I don't know what to say."

"Was last night  _that_ bad, or was it  _that_ good?" he jokes, but a blush rises on her face.

It's the first time he's brought it up, and now she doesn't know what to do. She was hoping they could avoid the whole discussing what it meant thing. And she's sure Frank isn't going to be pressing her about it and asking her if it was meaningful to her, but he won't refrain from teasing her about it.

"What are we doing today?" Laurel changes the subject, and then takes a sip of her orange juice.

"Whatever the hell we want," he answers with a grin, and then gets up to put his plate and cup in the sink. "There's a whole crap-ton of crap we can do here. There's a great pool at the hotel, there are rides if you're into that, and there are a ton of weird-ass attractions. This wasn't exactly the most well-organized or planned trip, ya know."

Laurel honestly has no clue what she wants to do. She can't even begin to imagine how odd it's going to be to go swimming with Frank, or go on rides with him and eat cotton candy on the beach... she only knows what to do on a family trip, where she would roll her eyes at everything her parents said and try and get along with her siblings. Family trips are different.  _This_ is a whole new story— she's with a guy that could  _potentially_ be considered a 'love interest' to her. She really doesn't know what they're supposed to call each other. Friends that aren't exactly friends but have sex from time to time?

Cutting off her thoughts is the sound of Frank's phone ringing loudly. The caller ID shows the call coming from Annalise, and both of them now feel uncomfortable. They know how crappy it's going to be when they have to explain themselves to her, and how they ditched critical work to get partying on the beach. Frank's got a close relation with Annalise, so it's unlikely he'll get fired. Laurel knows what she's risking. She's just a replaceable law student to Annalise, that probably means nothing. She could very well get fired for this.

"I'll let it go to voicemail," he says, and lets the ringing continue. When it stops, he asks, "So, have you thought about what you wanna do today?"

"I don't know. What exactly are we supposed to do together?" Laurel asks, raising her eyebrows.

"I may look like I'm an emotionless bastard ready to cut a bitch at any time, but I do still do fun things and know how to have a good time. I've been on trips before, and I've done stuff like playing that game where you run away from the ocean waves before they touch your feet," Frank tells her with a grin. "I can be a son of a bitch, but I'm still a person. It might be hard to remember that sometimes."

Laurel laughs at the idea of him playing that ocean game. She can't picture him being a kid and having fun. He's so.. masculine. She can only see him doing his work or doing sexual things. It's going to be quite a sight to see— him having fun at the beach.

"Fine, I guess I'll decide for you since you decided to become mute ever since we hooked up last night," he says with a grin, making her blush again. "Let's go to the beach."

"Okay," Laurel agrees.

"I'm gonna shower. Feel free to join me at any time," he winks as he begins walking away. He turns around for a brief moment and says, "Oh, and when I come back, you better stop being like this. It's gonna be real boring if you won't talk to me. I hate admitting stuff, but I really do like talkin' to ya."

She smiles to herself when he walks into the bathroom. She doesn't  _want_ to be awkward, but she's still confused about what happened. And maybe it would help if they talked about it so they could clear the air, but it was still uncomfortable to talk about it. If they had just had hot sex where he pushed her against the wall and roughly took her, she wouldn't have been overthinking it so much. But something was different last night. It was too intimate to be real.

 Impulsively, she puts down her fork and creaks open the door to the bathroom as quietly as she can. She drops her pajama pants to the floor, and pulls her tank top over her head. She tells herself not to overthink it— it's just Frank. He doesn't judge kinky things, and he certainly won't be complaining about her joining him. This thought brings her a surge of confidence, so she slides her panties off and unhooks her bra. One last breath, and she walks over to the shower, opening the door. Frank turns around in complete shock. He was definitely not expecting her to actually join him.

He glances down at Laurel's very naked body and smirks.

"Damn," he comments as the water begins to fall on her body, heightening the sexiness of the sight. 

"Shut up and get over here," she orders, putting her hand on the back of his neck and yanking him in for a kiss.

* * *

They don't talk about it once it's done. They do their kinky shower stuff and get dressed to go to the beach like it never happened. Frank changes into khaki shorts and an open, light blue, short-sleeved button-up shirt. It exposes his toned body, which Laurel can't help but find herself thinking about, despite the fact that she's seen him completely naked more than a few times. 

Laurel just wears shorts and a tank top. When they leave the hotel, she's still confused. What are they doing? Screwing in the shower and then going to the beach as whatever-friends? She knows it won't happen, but what if someone asks them if they're a couple? She's seen it in movies— those nosy people who assume two people are a couple just because they're seen together.

They set towels down on the sand, close to the ocean. All Laurel can think about now is how Frank said he used to play that game where he'd run away from the ocean. She laughs to herself at the thought. She'd kill to see a little Frank Delfino playing that game.

"So, what other human activities did the young Frank Delfino do whenever he'd go to the beach?" Laurel asks, tilting her head to the side and facing Frank, who is sitting right next to her.

He hugs his knees, thinking about it for a second.

"Lots of things," he responds, shrugging his shoulders. " _So_ , you're finally speaking to me again?" _  
_

"I don't want it to be weird," she shrugs back. "I agreed to come on this trip because I want to get away from the stress, and it's only going to be more stressful if I have to avoid you. So, yeah, I'm speaking to you again."

"C'mon, what did I even do to deserve the ignoring thing?" Frank asks. "I've been good to you. You do realize  _you_ came onto me. And _you_ came into the shower this morning. Obviously I'm not going to say no to you, but I'm not the one pushing you to do anything. And most of all,  _you_ decided to come on this trip with me."

"No, I don't want to think about this, or try and figure out something far too complicated—" she begins.

"It doesn't have to be complicated. I can do simple," he tells her.

" _Frank_ , we're here to have a good time, not to deal with dramatic crap. That can wait until we get back," Laurel tells him.

"Can it?" he raises his eyebrows.

"Yes, it can. Now, why don't you tell me more about young you?" Laurel asks with a smile. "That's something fun I'd like to hear about."

Frank decides to drop it. He wants to have fun with her, too, actually. He knows they can have stressful conversations about work and romantic relationships when they get back to the dramatic world of Annalise Keating. But they don't get a lot of opportunities like this to have a good time. And technically, they're not even supposed to have this opportunity. They made it for themselves and ran away from the dramatic world. But only temporarily.

"I could tell you all about it, but that'd be boring. Words are no fun," he grins, and moves closer to her. "I could show you instead."

He stands up, and offers her a hand to help her get up. A large smile emerges on her face as she follows him. He takes her towards the ocean.

 


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm beat from the beach, and I've gotta eat somethin'. If you think I'm bad now, wait until you see the starving version of me," Frank chuckles as the two of them approach the boardwalk. Laurel smiles at him. He stops walking and asks, "Does Mexican sound good to you?"

"No way, I've had enough authentic Mexican food all my life," she tells him, shaking her head. "We could order in at the hotel and be lazy."

"Nah, if we're at the hotel, I'll be tempted to do some things I shouldn't be thinking about," he teases, causing her to blush. "Besides, what's the point of coming out here if we're not going to go out and experience things? It doesn't have to be Mexican. This place has got plenty of restaurants."

She glances over at the ocean. It's dark out again, looking beautiful like the night before. She hates how clearly she remembers what happened the night before. God, she can't believe they did that out  _here_ , but she doesn't regret it at all. She remembers how good it felt. She snaps back into reality and looks over to her right— an Italian restaurant named Villa Romana.

"You wanna eat there?" Frank asks, raising his eyebrows.

"It looks fancy, and it looks good," she responds, nodding her head.

"Well, I guess it looks alright. We can eat here," he agrees, and they begin walking over to the restaurant. "But I could cook you a better Italian dinner. This place is fake and Americanized. When you grow up with a giant Italian family, food is everything. I learned a few of my grandmother's tricks in cooking, and my mom's, too."

Laurel's heart beats too fast at the thought of Frank cooking. She can imagine him cooking his Italian food in a kitchen, and it makes her laugh. She likes the image way more than she should.

"Oh, really?" she asks, raising her eyebrows. "You're a master chef then, huh? You should cook for me some time. I'd like to see if this authentic Italian food lives up to be everything you say it is."

"Maybe I should cook for you some time," he nods his head, and opens the door to the Italian restaurant for her. "I don't want to make claims, though. There's no way I can make the food the way my mom and grandma make it. They're just talented like that. Cooking skills haven't passed down that well to the Delfino boys, but I can make something decent. Better than this crap."

"This  _crap_ happens to taste very good," she laughs.

* * *

They order and receive their food, and Frank doesn't stop mentioning how fake and Americanized the Italian food is, but Laurel doesn't mind it— the sound of his deep voice complaining  _and_ the Americanized Italian food. The food's pretty damn good, and so is the sound of his voice. More the sound of his voice... there's something sexy about the way he talks that sends shivers down her spine. She feels like she's getting goosebumps when he talks.

Then Laurel notices something: the very pretty blonde waitress won't stop eyeing Frank throughout the whole dinner. She's shocked. She knows she and Frank aren't on a date, but when both of them are sitting together like this, if she didn't know any better, she would think it's a date. She's surprised that the waitress would give him that look when it seems like he's on a date with another girl.

"When is she going to grow a pair and make a move on you already?" Laurel asks, but only to see his reaction. She wants to know if he's been considering the waitress. "I mean, she's been talking all flirty with you the  _entire_ dinner, and she won't stop looking at you!"

"Huh?" Frank says, sounding genuinely confused. "The waitress?"

"Don't pretend like you haven't noticed!" Laurel rolls her eyes. "I know you'd notice if a pretty girl's been eyeing you all dinner. She's totally interested in you!"

"Is she, now?" Frank asks, raising his eyebrows. "I haven't really noticed. You know, because I've been a bit distracted." He chuckles, gazing at her heavily. The blush rises to her cheeks again.

"Oh, come on. You're going to let a pretty woman like that get away?" Laurel asks. 

"I'm not interested in her," he responds, and lets his gaze at Laurel become heavier. "Not only that, but I haven't seen any of these signs that she's interested in me, anyway. But clearly you have. It's funny how you're paying more attention to the girl that's apparently flirting with me than I am. Something you wanna tell me, Laurel?"

She rolls her eyes.

"If you think I'm jealous, I'm not," she says, but it's so clearly a lie. And he knows it, too. He knows she's got jealousy in her from the flirty blonde waitress. "I just happen to be very observant, and I noticed the way she was talking to you and looking at you."

"I never said you're jealous," he reminds, smirking.

"Eyes can speak," Laurel says, and Frank tilts his head to the side. A tiny smile appears on his face.

"I don't think that's what my eyes are saying at all," he says, and reaches across the table to put his hand on one of her cheeks.

"Frank..." she mumbles out. Her face gets so hot and her heart won't stop beating. She's afraid he can hear it. "Frank, what are you doing?" her voice sounds so worried when she speaks.

"Give me a chance, Laurel," he almost begs. "I'm not all bad, I swear. And you've been running away from me every time something happens. But something keeps happening between us. Don't tell me you haven't thought about this morning. And don't tell me you haven't thought about last night."

 She sighs and looks away from him, forcing his hand off of her cheek, even though she liked the feeling of it. She wanted to avoid having this conversation, but she knew it was coming.

"What is wrong with this?" Frank asks and pulls his hand back to his side. He looks at her with genuine curiosity. "Seriously, what is wrong with any of this? If you're scared about Annalise finding out because we work together or something, you know I can take care of it—"

"It's not Annalise," she cuts him off, struggling to look up at him. "It's  _you_ , Frank."

"It's me?" he asks, raising his eyebrows. "Wow." He tries to mask that he feels upset about her saying this, but he's pretty sure he's failing at hiding it. "What did I do?" he asks. 

"You know what kind of guy you are," she sighs. "The others at work talk about stuff all the time, and it's pretty clear you've been with a wide variety of women in your life. Some of the students, too. A lot of students, actually. How am I supposed to know what this is? I've dated enough stupid guys to know what it feels like to get hurt, and I don't want to feel that way again. I don't want to feel this way about you and then get my heart broken by you."

"Laurel..." he mutters. He doesn't know how to defend himself. What she said is true— he has been with a lot of women, and he has slept with a lot of students. He can see why she's hesitant. She doesn't want to be just another student in his conquest. But he doesn't know how to tell her it isn't like that.

God, it's so different than the other times, though. He would never take one of those other students he slept with out to the beach and try to get to know them. And he wouldn't take them out to dinner or constantly try to pursue them for over a year. Those girls were so different. He'd sleep with them when they were desperate, and then stop pursuing them right after. And obviously, he hasn't stopped with Laurel. He never wants to stop.

But how can he get her to believe him? There's only evidence against him. He can say he hasn't gone to this extent to pursue somebody before, but he's not sure how convincing that really is. He feels like he'll come off as he's just trying to say whatever he can to get her back on his side.

"Don't tell me it isn't true, because I know it is," she tells him.

"Not the part about you. That's not true," he assures her. "I'm sorry. I know what my reputation with students has been in the past, but I  _promise_ it's not like that with you."

"Really? And how do I know you didn't say that to the other students?" she asks, raising her eyebrows. "How do I know that this isn't the same game you put on with them?"

"Trust me when I say it. That's all I can do," he sighs.

"I don't think that's enough," she says, and stands up.

He furrows his eyebrows.

"Where are you going?" Frank asks.

"Back to the hotel room," she responds. "I think this trip might have been a mistake. I was fooling myself coming here. I'd rather get back as soon as possible and not get my ass kicked by Annalise."

"Are you serious?" he asks, shocked. "Laurel, come on. You're overreacting."

She reaches into her purse and pulls out some money. She hands it to Frank.

"I think this should cover my half for the dinner," she tells him.

"That's not necessary," he stops her, trying to hand the money back to her. "I can pay."

"It's okay. You don't have to waste all your money on me," she says.

"I get that you're a rich girl and I seem like the poor boy that can't afford shit, but you  don't have to give me your pity and pay for your half of the dinner. I can do nice things, too. But I guess you only believe all the stuff you hear about me being an asshole, instead of actually getting to know me and finding out who I am," he rolls his eyes.

She rolls her eyes and takes her money back from his hands.

"Fine," she says, and walks away without another word.

He groans in frustration and leans back in his chair, hanging his head over it. The blonde waitress finally returns to the table to check on how he's doing.

"Is everything good over here?" she asks.

"Yeah," he responds. "Can I get the check, please?"

"Um, sure. Are you sure you don't want dessert or something?" she asks.

"No, no dessert. Just the check," he tells her.

"Rough night?" she asks curiously, raising her eyebrows. And then he realizes it's true— Laurel was right about the waitress being into him. He can tell by the way she's looking at him. "Did your girlfriend ditch you?"

"She's not exactly my girlfriend," he informs her, but he knows he shouldn't have, because it's only going to give her ideas. "But, yeah. She got mad at me for something kinda stupid, and she went back to the hotel room."

"I'm sorry," the waitress apologizes.

"Why?" he raises his eyebrows. "It's not your fault."

"I don't know. I'm just sorry you had to deal with a girl that gives you trouble like that," she says, smiling at him sweetly. She takes the plates from the table. "I'll be back with your check in just a moment," she tells him.

This can go two ways. He can go back to the hotel room and give everything he's got to convince Laurel he's not a dick, or he can actually be a dick by flirting back with the blonde waitress and  _really_ be a dick by having sex with her, too. It'll give Laurel everything she needs to get full confirmation that he's exactly the dick she thought he was.

The waitress returns with the check. When he opens the bill, he sees her number scribbled down in black ink on the receipt. He chuckles to himself. He knew he got that vibe from her. He removes to receipt and puts his credit card into the check and waits for her to return to pick it up. What a cheesy move she pulled off...

After he gets his card back, she returns to the table.

"So, I'm assuming you got the receipt?" she asks, and sits down where Laurel was sitting before.

He raises his eyebrows.

"Yeah, I did," he responds. "You're brave to make a move like that, knowing that I'm sorta with that girl who was here before."

"Well, you said she's not your girlfriend. And you also said that she's pissed at you. So, I thought I could give you some good company that won't get pissed at you for stupid reasons," she says.

He sighs.

"It's sorta my fault why she's pissed at me," he tells her.

"We don't have to worry about her," she says.

"What's your name, by the way?" he asks.

"Stephanie," she responds. "But you can call me Steph if you want."

"Nah, Stephanie's good to me," he shrugs. "I'm Frank."

 The choice seems clear: Laurel doesn't want to give him a chance, and this girl is obviously interested in him. He's got to decide if he wants to keep trying to make Laurel happy, or just give up and have fun with another girl.

"She shouldn't be pissed at you for any reason, because she should know you're quite a catch," Stephanie flirts, smirking at him. "She should also know that if she lets you go for even a moment, there's going to be a ton of girls all over you."

Frank furrows his eyebrows. Subtle. Stephanie rises up from the chair and leans over the table, moving herself closer to him. God, he knows what she's about to do— she's trying to kiss him. He's got less than a second to decide if he wants to kiss her back and probably never be forgiven by Laurel. 

And he's not a stupid guy. He'd never pick this Stephanie chick over Laurel.

He chuckles bitterly and dodges her lips so they land on his cheek instead. She's shocked and retreats her head. Unfortunately, the scene doesn't look so good from the window, where Laurel has been watching. She opens the door in anger.

"You're crazy if you think I'd do that," he rolls his eyes. "I really like this girl. I'm not about to screw everything up for you. Why don't you go hit on a guy that's actually available? Desperate isn't cute, just so you know."

Stephanie looks mortified. She gets up from the table, and walks away from him.

" _Frank_!" Laurel yells.

He turns around to see her still standing there, and his eyes widen. Dammit, he knows this does not look good, and it's going to be difficult to explain to her that he was just telling Stephanie he's not interested. Especially when there's a receipt with her phone number on it, and when she witnessed Stephanie kissing his cheek.

"I actually came back because I felt stupid for not giving you a chance," she says, and she looks like she's about to cry. Frank's heart breaks watching her look so sad, especially when he knows it's his fault. "I was right about you, wasn't I? The minute I don't do what you want, you turn to another girl."

"Hey, it's not like that!" Frank calls after her, but she starts leaving the restaurant. "Laurel, wait! Let me explain!"

He follows her all the way back to the hotel, but she's trying way too hard to speed in front of him.

" _She_ was trying to flirt with me. I told her about you. I told her there's another girl I like. She tried to kiss me, and I avoided it, so it turned into a kiss on the cheek," he explains, almost out of breath. She turns to face him, backing into the hotel room. "Laurel, please."

"Is this real.. for you?" she suddenly asks.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

" _This_. Because I don't want to play this back and forth game just so you can get me to sleep with you," she tells him.

"Believe me, if I wanted to just sleep with you, I wouldn't have been working this hard. There are so many desperate girls out there who I could get sex from, but that's not what this is," he says.

"Gee, thanks. That makes me feel special," she sarcastically says.

"Dammit, I'm crappy with words, I know," he sighs. "I mean.. do you really think I'd go to all these lengths for sex? I wouldn't take a girl I just wanna sleep with out here, and I wouldn't badger her this much. I know the type of guy I've been in the past, and I can see why you wouldn't trust me, but I've never had a reason to want a relationship. I've never had an actual reason to go after a girl for more than just sex." He gives her that all too fucking meaningful look and quietly confesses, "Now I do."

Her whole being feels like it's about to crumble. How can he just say something like that to her? She doesn't know if it's real or not, but it sure feels real. She's got this urge to kiss him. Whatever he's been saying to her makes her  _believe_ in him. She believes that this is meaningful to him, and she believes that nothing happened with the blonde waitress from the restaurant.

"Don't leave tomorrow," Frank says. "Please, Laurel."

 She takes a step forward and goes onto her tiptoes. She goes as high as she can to lean forward and place a gentle kiss on his lips. She cups his cheeks, feeling the scratchiness of his beard that she loves so much. He holds her lower back, pulling her in even closer. Their bodies are touching. Her breasts are pressed against his body. Her tongue slides against his lips. She lets her hands move down from his cheeks to his shorts. She doesn't pull them down, though. All she feels is how hard he is underneath.

"I'm trusting you," she whispers into his ear.

She takes a step back like the tease she is, and almost begins laughing at the look on his face.

"Fuck you," he mumbles.

She smiles at him and pecks his lips so briefly.

"I'm going to go change into my pajamas," she tells him. She turns around for one moment and says, "You can sleep on the bed, too."

She continues walking away, and then a smile emerges on his face. He gets a black wife beater and gray boxers from his bag and quickly changes into them. By the time he has changed, Laurel is already in bed. She's facing the left. He smiles again when he realizes he's going to be sleeping next to her tonight, and can barely think properly when he pulls the string of the lamp to turn the lights off.

He doesn't say anything, and crawls into bed. He pulls the blanket over him, and inches closer to Laurel's body— nothing sexual. He just wraps his arms around her, and she doesn't stop him. She doesn't want to.

"Good night," he whispers, and kisses the back of her head.

Oh God, she can't believe how hard she's falling for him.


End file.
